A Vonat The Train
by brodeurgirl30
Summary: A world torn apart. A forbidden love. Lines blur and boundaries are crossed. But, will Edward and Bella pay for it with their lives? Won 3rd Place in A Picture Says it All contest!


**A/N:** A big thanks to ShearEnvy and KhariZZmatik for hosting a fun contest and providing inspiring pictures. Also a big thanks to my awesome beta Simba517. Check out A Picture Says It All Contest community for all of the other great stories. This was inspired by pic #2.

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

"**Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."**

~Norman Cousins

A lone figure dotted the misty gray horizon, stark against the early morn in its singularity. I continued on, relentlessly placing one foot in front of the other. The _shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump_ pulsed out a rhythm punctuating the quiet as I drug my deformed foot over the cross ties, marching to certain life, or certain death. I wasn't sure. The rails stretched several hundred yards between us and I wondered if he even noticed me, or if his eyes simply peered right through me - a ghost of who I'd been two months ago.

The silence was deafening as if Earth herself was suddenly holding her breath. Only yesterday I had yearned for quiet. I'd wished a thousand times for the anguished wails that had become the morose soundtrack of my life to cease. But now the silence pressed in from all sides. And to my utter horror I realized the very sounds of death had become a security blanket. They swaddled me in false security, reminding me I was still alive unlike so many others.

With the sudden stillness had come confusion, a torrent of unsettling thoughts swirling in my head. _Was I truly__alive or had I succumbed to the spray of bullets? Was I lying somewhere in a field outside a cattle car, the taste of freedom still on my tongue? _I halted, bending over to rest my hands on my knees, dizzy from exhaustion and hunger. I wasn't sure when I had last eaten. Two? Maybe three days ago? However, it was not my lack of nourishment concerning me at the moment. It was the mounting pressure in my chest, inhibiting my ability to breathe. Panic set in as the figure was close enough now I could just distinguish the band of red adorning his left arm.

I forced myself to take deep breaths, pulling oxygen into my burning lungs. I'd learned through first hand experience air was a human's most basic need. Not food. Not water. Not heat, shelter, or medicine. Air. For I had lived without all these other things before. I had lived off a daily cup of black watery soup. Soup that I closed my eyes to drink rapidly in a desperate attempt to ignore the rat feces, the bone fragments, the bits of human hair. I'd suffered and lived through experiments in which scientists withheld water to study the effects of dehydration on humans, secretly drinking urine in the dark corners of my prison. Yet, only yesterday I'd been packed suffocatingly tight into a cattle car, over a hundred people in such a small place. Quicklime coated the floor, burning my bare feet. Many had already died, slumped against someone else - a victim of asphyxiation. Even the dead were not at rest, still standing on their feet. There wasn't room to even bend their knees.

I had clawed at my thread-bare tunic desperate to find any warmth for my frozen skin. The unheated train car, in January, was unbearable. However, the stench of excrement and death burned the inside of my nostrils as I fought to draw any last bit of oxygen into my lungs. The burning in my chest increased, as though it was being torn apart. Black dots spotted my vision until, at last, the train came to a screeching halt and the doors mercifully slid open.

My journey was a familiar one as I'd ridden on a train not unlike this one almost a year ago. It was April, 1944 when Adolf Eichmann took residence in the Majestic Hotel. Within a few short weeks we'd been forced from our home outside Sighet Marmatiei, Hungary and relocated to the ghetto within the city. On April 29th, the first train carrying just under 2,000 Jews left for Poland. The promise of work lifted my family's spirits and we eagerly awaited our selection to board the train.

Our time came on May 15th when our evening meal was interrupted by an angry pounding on the door of the small room we shared with two other families.

"Zu den Zügen! Zu den Zügen! Alle raus!" _To the trains! To the trains! Everyone out!_

We scrambled about gathering what little belongings we had and stuffed them into our bags. Upon our arrival at the station we were informed the cars were filled to capacity and our bags would be sent to us at a later time. Armed Nazi officers milled about, barking orders as we were herded onto the cars like cattle. My mother wrapped her arm around my shoulders pulling me closer to her, my father at her side as well. I clutched my younger sister Alice's hand, fighting against the hoards of people threatening to separate us as they pushed and shoved towards the trains.

Finally, we reached the car and I stood at ground level looking upwards. _So many people, already! How would we possibly fit?_

"Weitergehen!" the guard bellowed. _Keep moving!_

My father stooped, scooping my sister in his arms and lifted her into the car before scurrying up behind. When he reached the interior, he turned and offered assistance to my mother. I inched forward, clutching the ladder just as the train whistle sliced through the noise. Startled, my foot slipped from the bottom step. A hand shot out, grasping my elbow to steady me.

After regaining my balance, I turned to thank the gentleman who came to my aid, but the words stalled in my throat. His hand still firmly held my elbow allowing my eyes to travel up the muddy green sleeve of his jacket and widen as they landed on the swastika there. I felt the blood drain from my face as my eyes shot to his in shock, my mouth gaping like a fish. I gathered my wits, snapping my mouth shut and diverted my eyes quickly, praying he would not realize his mistake and make an example of me in front of the others.

"Here. Let me help you," he whispered so softly I would have missed it if not for the gentle pressure applied to my elbow. I swallowed, stunned, and allowed him to assist me. When I reached the top my father snatched me away quickly, tucking me protectively behind his back. I peeked around his shoulder wanting a better look at the strange man now that I was safely away from him.

Hungary had been an ally to the German forces since the latter months of 1940 and our people had been granted a measure of protection within its borders. Anti-Jewish Laws were established in 1938, but as long as one minded their own business there was never any trouble. All that changed a month ago when Hitler's troops invaded Hungary. It was discovered quickly that German soldiers were to be avoided. Any other Nazi would have certainly allowed me to fall and more than likely kicked me while I was down. So, the fact this young man not only assisted me, but spoke kindly made him a walking contradiction. And an officer nonetheless! Higher ranking officials were always tyrants soaked in Hitler's propaganda.

As the doors slid shut and the train's occupants were cast in darkness, I was left with the image of this enigma. For awhile, I could think of nothing else. His mere age had shaken me. He couldn't have been more than nineteen, only a year or two older than me. Could someone so young be filled with such hate? But, it wasn't hate I'd seen in his eyes. In fact it had been quite the opposite: fear, pain, sadness, pity.

The depths of emotion pouring from the windows of his soul caused a deep stirring within me. We traveled to the station with the hope that work lay ahead in Poland, but as the train chugged along I couldn't help but feel as if something much more sinister awaited us. We would find nothing good in Poland. I'd seen it in his eyes.

As the night wore on, fatigue set in and I could no longer focus on anything but surviving the night. The temperature usually cooled throughout the evening in springtime and I was sure tonight was no different. Inside the train, however, was sweltering. The bodies were packed so tight, simply raising my arms would have presented a challenge.

People were becoming restless. We'd been standing for hours already. The backs of my calves burned and I would've given anything to sit down.

"Lean your head on me, my sweet Isabella, and try to get some rest. Things will be better in the morning," my father tried in vain to reassure me. Things would not be better in the morning. I knew it in my heart, though I could never have imagined what really awaited us at the end of our journey. Yet, his voice still held such hope despite the conditions we were currently in and I couldn't bear to shatter it.

Instead, I settled for, "I love you, Papa," and laid my head against his back allowing a fitful sleep to claim me.

I awoke with a start, not quite sure what had drawn me from my slumber, the gray light of dawn seeping through the cracks in the boards. Suddenly, a woman's cry cut through the silence.

"Please! I can't breathe!" she sobbed. "Please, I need water! I don't want to die! Please!"

She chanted the phrases repetitively, a mantra. You could feel the atmosphere shifting inside the train, tension sweeping throughout the people like a poisonous gas as she continued her plea.

Finally, someone cracked, "For God's sake, woman! Control yourself!" he spat. "We're all tired and thirsty, but you don't hear anyone else sniveling!"

His words did nothing to deter the woman as she continued her incantation, "Please! I can't breathe!"

"Shut up!" the man barked in vain.

"I don't want to die!"

"Dammit, woman! I said shut up!" he roared, raising his hand and landing a swift blow to her head. I averted my eyes, burying my face in my father's back. He found my hand, squeezing it as I trembled against him.

The woman never made another sound.

The conditions inside the train worsened as our journey continued. The sun broke through the clouds and bled into early afternoon, the temperature increasing steadily. The heat intertwined with the stench of urine making the air almost unbearable to breathe. We'd been on the train for almost sixteen hours with no bathroom. My own bladder felt as if it might burst.

I fought to stay calm as the train finally came to a stop. I peered through the cracks, taking in what I could see of our new lodgings. Fencing, topped with razor wire, stood taller than a man around the border of several brick buildings. Thick black smoke and ash hung heavy like a fog over the ground. As much as I feared what awaited outside the car, I knew I would not survive much longer inside and so I longed for our turn to exit the train.

I shielded my eyes from the midday sun as the door screeched open. My father stiffly hobbled down before turning and assisting the rest of us. My family clung close to each other as Nazi guards shouted orders.

"Frau und Kinder auf der linken Seite! Männer auf der rechten Seite!"_ Women and children on the left! Men on the right!_

"Hold on tight to Isabella and Alice, love," my father hugged my mother.

"No, Charles. Don't leave us, please!"

"Frau und Kinder auf der linken Seite! Männer auf der rechten Seite!" a guard snapped, tugging us apart and throwing my father to the ground, viciously kicking him in the ribs.

"No! Papa!" I screamed before I rushed the man kicking my father - pulling against him fruitlessly.

A strong arm abruptly wrapped around my waist, wrenching me away from my father's attacker. I kicked and flailed, futilely attempting to pry his hands from around me.

I felt his warm breath on my ear before he spoke. I stilled, immediately recognizing the voice of the gentlemen who had helped me earlier. "If you don't stop, I won't be able to save you or your family. Please!" he whispered furiously.

I nodded, my cheek pressed against his as he sat me back on my feet. "Go to your mother and do as I say," he breathed before releasing me. I ran to my mother's arms. She enveloped me, pulling me to her as we sobbed against each other.

I watched as the bronze haired officer, my apparent savior, gripped the guard's arm, speaking in hushed tones as my father lie motionless in the dirt. His eyes flashed in fury as another officer, one that outranked him if my knowledge of German decoration was correct, joined the huddle.

The group broke apart, the guard kicking my father one last time. The bronze haired officer moved towards me, his head down, refusing to make eye contact with me. He gripped my arm painfully and began dragging me away from my mother and sister to a different line.

"What are you doing?" I choked. "Where are you taking me? What about my family? My father?"

He pulled me to a stop as we reached the front of the line. He spoke in German to another guard, too fast for me to understand.

"Ausziehen," the man attending the line commanded. _Strip._

I looked at the bronze haired officer not quite believing what I'd heard. His eyes showed the same sadness I'd seen in them when I initially boarded the train.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Only I was able to hear. "I'm so very sorry." He gave my arm a final squeeze then turned and walked away.

"Ausziehen."

I swiped at the tears spilling down my cheeks and stepped to the side removing my clothes. I tried to focus on finding my mother and sister instead of the humiliation of disrobing in front of everyone. Most of the other Jews had the decency to avert their eyes, but the German soldiers stared brazenly, their eyes raking over my body. As I removed the final article, I finally caught sight of my mother and sister before they disappeared into a building with a large smokestack located just inside the entrance.

"Bewegung!" another officer commanded. _Move!_ I fell into line with several other people, men and women alike. I did the best I could to cover myself as I followed behind, one hand covering my chest, while the other cupped between my legs.

We were led to a room where I was forced into a chair. A young Jewish boy, not more than fifteen, moved down the line with a pair of clippers. He moved behind me and I closed my eyes feeling the clippers press against my skull, the mahogany locks of hair tumbling to the floor below me.

When I was shaved completely bald we were led to showers. Scalding hot water poured from pipes poking out between the cinder blocks. Almost as soon as the water turned on, it was shut off and we were herded outside where Jewish women coated us in a white powder before finally being handed a scratchy tunic, no undergarments.

As I was led to my barrack, I glanced back at the building my mother and sister had entered, smoke now pouring from the chimney. White ash floated down like snow, dusting the tops of my shoulders. I walked numbly behind the others.

We were left to our own devices after being informed of a roll call at dusk. Conditions inside the barracks were nothing less than deplorable. Bunks, four stories high, with boards in place of mattresses, jutted out from the wall down the entire length of the room. Sheets, nothing but mere threads lay draped across them. The room was filthy and the smell of human excrement and body odor once again assaulted my nose. I watched in horror as mice scurried to and fro about the room.

I crawled onto one of the bunks and laid down on my side, my knees pulled to my chest. My eyes drifted to the door occasionally as more and more… prisoners – I guess there was no denying the word now - were escorted into the barrack. I didn't really have any hope left in finding my family. I knew in my gut what their fate had been. Nevertheless, I found my eyes drawn towards the door whenever they registered any sort of movement.

I lost complete track of time and soon found it to be roll call. Everyone scurried about scrambling to fall into the formation of rows and columns. German soldiers walked in and out weaving throughout the lines, hands clasped behind their backs. I held my breath each time one passed by, fighting to keep my eyes straight ahead. I'd already surmised it wouldn't be beneficial to draw attention to myself.

Time stretched on and still we stood in formation. My legs ached and I had to urinate. Then suddenly, a man or possibly a woman –I could no longer tell –dropped to the ground. I watched as the officer, who had argued with the bronzed haired man over my father earlier, stalked towards the slumping form. He pulled a small handgun from his belt and fired a bullet into the inmate's skull.

I gasped and fought back bile rising in my throat, my knees suddenly weak. I shook violently as soldiers continued to mill about, in and out, in and out, amongst the ranks. And then the bronze haired man turned down my row. Somehow his presence calmed me just enough that I didn't feel as if I would topple over at any moment. I wondered briefly if he would even recognize me - without my hair or my clothes.

The Schutzlagerfuhrer, the camp head, suddenly shouted, "Stopp!" _Halt_! All of the soldiers stopped, the bronze haired officer directly behind my left shoulder. The officer shouted again, "Schießt!" and a loud crack from simultaneous gunfire echoed off the surrounding buildings. The person standing beside me dropped to the ground and I wet myself, the shock making me unable to hold my urine any longer.

The nausea was back. _Had the bronze haired man done that?_

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, still behind me. "Almost over. Stay strong."

"Zurück zu Ihrer Kaserne! Inspektion!" _Return to your barracks! Inspection!_

My mind was spinning with all that had just occurred, but it felt good to move my legs again after standing so long. I tried to make the walk to the block last without being too conspicuous. It seemed others had the same idea. When I reached the barracks, I stood at the foot of my bunk waiting for the inspection. My eyes widened slightly as the bronze haired man entered the room. This time, as he passed by, my stomach clenched as I remembered the person dropping to the ground, a victim of this German officer's gun. _He wanted to protect me? Perhaps this was some sort of sick game to him._

He strolled to the end of the room, turned on his heel and began the trek back towards the door, hands clasped firmly behind his back, piercing green eyes peering into each bunk. He stopped in front of me and I held my breath, praying for him to leave.

"You," he jammed a finger at me. "Follow me."

My heartbeat quickened in my chest. I followed behind him, weaving in and out of buildings to the very outskirts of camp. He disappeared behind two small outhouses, before turning to face me.

This was it. I didn't understand why he had singled me out to torture. If he was going to kill me, why not just send me off with my mother and sister as soon as I had arrived? Maybe he wanted to do it himself? If that were to be my fate, I wasn't going to go without a fight.

Rage exploded within me, burning my lungs as I flew at the bronze haired officer. Pounding my fists into his chest, I fought for my father, my sister, and my mother. I fought for the people who died at inspection tonight. I fought the bronze haired officer as if he were Hitler, himself. Even blinded by my fury, it didn't escape my notice that he did not fight back. In fact, he did not even try to defend himself. He stood and received the punishment I dealt until exhaustion finally overtook me.

With tears streaming down my face, I looked up at him. I wanted to stare him in the eyes as he took my life so he would know I wasn't afraid. But, what I found there once again brought me up short. The same pain, fear, and sadness I'd seen in his eyes earlier had rooted there, only magnified ten times over.

"I am truly sorry." He barely spoke above a whisper.

Before I could register what was happening, he reached forward and wrapped me in his arms, his hand raised, stroking my head. Momentary embarrassment swept through me as I remembered my bald head, but his touch was so careful and gentle I did not want to shy away from it.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he chanted in rhythm with his strokes.

I pulled back just enough to look at his face. "My parents? My sister?" I whispered.

He shook his head minutely in response. I'd known in my heart they were dead, but having it confirmed brought pain slicing through my abdomen. My knees buckled and only the bronze haired officer's arms kept me from collapsing completely. My hand flew over my mouth as I felt the vomit climb my throat. He turned me - my back against his chest - and wrapped both arms securely around my waist. I leaned over retching, but nothing came. There was nothing to come. Gut wrenching sobs spilled over as pain continued – my stomach convulsing fruitlessly.

"Shhh. Shhh. Please. No one can find us. Shhh," he pleaded. "Take deep breaths."

I did as I was told until finally the convulsions stopped. Sensing my exhaustion, he allowed his back to slide down the wall of one of the latrines and pulled me close once again.

We sat for a few moments in the dark as I tried to process all that was happening. He broke the silence first, but only in hushed whispers. "Are you hungry? I know you probably don't feel like it, but you need to eat something. You need to keep your strength."

He rummaged through his coat pocket producing a few pieces of salami and a small hunk of bread. My stomach twisted at the smell, but this time in hunger. I nodded and accepted his offering.

"Just eat slowly," he said.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Is this some sort of sick joke so you can torture me emotionally before you kill me?"

His eyes flashed in pain, as if my very words had cut him. "I would never kill you," he breathed.

"Well, forgive me if that is hard to believe after this evening," I retorted.

And there was the sadness again. It seeped in from the corners until his eyes were completely clouded over with it.

"I know you must think I'm a monster. I can't blame you for that. In many ways I am. But, I don't know of any other way. I lay awake at night trying to figure out if there is anything I could do differently, but I always come back to this," he rambled senselessly.

"I'm not following," I told him.

He sighed in frustration before continuing. "My father is an official, high up in the German government – a Nazi to the core. He was never around much when I was a child. I was reared by my mother and a nurse, a Jewish woman named Lavey. I loved both of them deeply and they instilled in me compassion for other people. I rarely saw my father until my seventeenth birthday. He came home one evening and announced I was leaving to join the Nazi Youth.

"My mother and Lavey pleaded with him, but he wouldn't budge. In the end, I watched as he threw my mother against a wall and put a bullet in Lavey's head. I wanted it to stop so I acquiesced." He paused to huff out a sardonic laugh. "As if I had a choice.

"When I arrived at the youth camp, I realized very quickly my father's power. I was the son of the great Carlisle Cullen and before my eighteenth birthday I'd made Oberleutnant, then Rittmeisterbefore my ninteenth, cutting through the ranks like a knife through soft butter. But, I could never come to terms with the unfounded hatred my people felt for yours.

I would lay awake at night for hours dreaming up different scenarios, all of which took me away from the German army. Until one night it dawned on me that maybe I could do more good if I remained."

I furrowed my brows not understanding his train of thought. I'd never encountered a German officer like this strange young man. It was hard to take in, to accept what he was saying as fact when every fiber of my being rebelled against what he was.

"Don't you see, Isabella?" The use of my name startled me - but I watched as a bit of the clouds that had overtaken his eyes dissipated, giving way to just a fraction of light. "Every night _I _inspect a barrack is one night they receive a little relief; an extra bit of bread, a clean tunic, or a new blanket when I can manage it. Every work detail _I_ am in charge of is one day the people can work in peace, without fear of death. I don't know how to protect them any other way."

He sighed and dropped his head, squeezing his arm around me tighter as I watched the light fade and the clouds return. "But, I have to keep up the façade. If I were discovered, I would suffer a fate worse than those of this camp. If there is one thing the Nazi's hate more than Jews, it is a Jew lover. Yet, it's not about me, or my safety. I would gladly give my life for those imprisoned here if I thought it would do any good. But, I could be replaced with a tyrant and the people would never receive any relief from the torture. I do what I have to, to remain hidden."

He fell silent then, and we sat for a while. He shifted, gripping my arms gently and pushed me away from his chest. "I have to get you back before anyone becomes suspicious, but I have to be honest with you, Isabella. I won't lie. This is the first time I've ever snuck anyone out of barracks before. I am drawn to you unlike anyone I have ever met. I can't promise you absolute safety. No one, not even me, is completely safe in a place like this. But, I want you to know I will do everything in my power to protect you."

"Like you did my family?" I snorted derisively before I could stop myself. My words were harsh, but I was not quite ready to trust him.

"I suppose I deserve that," his face twisted in a grimace. "You have no reason to trust a Nazi." He looked up, his eyes locking with mine. There was desperation behind them as he spoke. "But, please, Isabella, allow me to earn your trust?"

Edward, as I'd come to know him, did everything within his power to prove himself trustworthy. More nights than not, he was assigned to inspect my block, sneaking other bunkmates and I scraps of food or fresh water whenever possible. He finagled it so that I was assigned to his daily work detail.

The job wasn't strenuous and for that I was thankful, but it was utterly depressing. The train delivered more and more prisoners, while secondary trains brought their belongings. From sunrise to sunset I sorted through their possessions, searching for anything the German officers would deem valuable; jewelry, watches, silverware, even gold fillings in teeth extruded from bodies before cremation.

As I worked, I would create stories about the item's owners. They were lost Russian princesses and handsome young businessmen. In all my imaginings, their lives were always better than the fate we had succumbed to. Those were good days, when my thoughts could remain in the fantasy world I created. But, other days it was impossible to keep my thoughts from reality.

On one particular day, I discovered a ring sewn into the lining of a woman's coat. I gasped audibly as I pulled the it from the cut lining. It was beautiful – a deep red garnet set in gold with intricate filigree etched along the band. It reminded me so much of my mother's engagement ring, it froze me in place.

Edward was at my side in a heartbeat. His face was stern, in keeping with the facade, but his words were kind and soft. "What is it, Isabella? What's wrong?" He crouched down beside me, taking the ring and pretending to examine it for it's worth.

"It l-looks just like my m-mother's," I stammered, my heart hammering so hard it made it difficult to breathe. He grabbed a loupe to examine the stone while he continued to whisper softly.

"Isabella, this isn't your mother's. I know it doesn't help, but their things passed through here just a few days after they arrived. I promise you it's not hers."

"I know…but it was someone's mother." His eyes snapped to mine full of pain as he watched a tear slip down my cheek. I turned and continued sorting. He stood and continued his rounds throughout the workers.

From then on, I had trouble weaving my fairy tales regarding the people whose belongings passed through this place, but still the trains came - sometimes two or three a day, now. Yet, the numbers in the camp never increased. They only delivered walking corpses. The white ash fell unceasingly, dusting the ground like snow. I could feel the depression creeping closer everyday, like an undetected cancer growing and spreading until its prey no longer had the strength to fight it. I could only hope that some were still alive, but most had been murdered the moment they entered the gates here at Auschwitz, as my family had. Then again, maybe that was easier.

Edward watched me like a hawk as the days passed on, concern permanently etched on his face, making him appear much older than just his young nineteen years. He could sense when my thoughts took a turn for the worse, spiraling into a bottomless abyss. He would circulate around the room, passing a little closer than usual. As he neared my stool, he allowed his fingers to gently brush my arm, or the back of my tunic. When I was really brave or in desperate need of reassurance, I would drop my hand in time for his fingers to caress mine. His touch would send soothing warmth up my arm that spread throughout my body, grounding me again – pulling me back from the edge.

But, there was never a moment I wasn't thankful – thankful that I'd met Edward and been assigned over and over again to his work detail. Though still taxing, my life and those of my barrack and work detail were infinitely better than others' in the camp. You could visibly see prisoners relax when their number was called to be in Edward's charge.

The only time we truly feared for our lives was morning and evening roll call. Yet, even then Edward protected me. He had an uncanny sagacity that allowed him to sense when the Schutzlagerfuhrer was going to give the order to fire. He would position himself strategically, effectively blocking the other shooters with his own body.

On occasion, though rarely, we were able to sneak away for a time and I found myself longing for such instances. It was the one time we could just _be_. We wore no masks, played no parts here. There was no guard and prisoner, no Nazi and Jew. We were simply Edward and Isabella. And with each passing time together, we became more and more each other's confidant, comfort, and even sanity itself. We would have been great friends, possibly more if we had met in a different time.

But we did not. The world was in upheaval as Hitler marched his army across the land, occupying country after country, sending the Jewish people living there to slaughter. I'd be lying if I claimed everything to be perfect between Edward and me. Our growing relationship was still hard, despite our undeniable connection.

It never failed to shock me when the handsome face of my friend, _my_ Edward, morphed into the Nazi officer; whipping and even killing some when he was forced to. I tried to understand, to remember the good he did daily. I clung to the image of my friend who brought me so much comfort and protected me fiercely.

Still the injustice of it all angered me. Edward was a slave to this life as much as I was and my heart ached for this kindhearted boy the Nazi's had forced to become a murderer. _Would either of us make it out with even a shred of our humanity?_

We never spoke of his actions. It was too painful for both of us. I'd come to terms with the fact Edward was two different people. We both struggled to keep those people separate. I determined to treat him, when he was with me, as simply Edward. I would not judge him by what this war had done to him.

In fact, Edward was probably the only reason many in my block survived the beginnings of winter. More than once an extra blanket appeared just before curfew. On one particularly cold night in late November, Edward and I were able to slip out of the barracks. We hid in our normal spot, behind the latrines. The smell was terrible, but it also ensured we would not be disturbed.

Once encased in shadow, Edward unbuttoned his coat and pulled me to his chest, before wrapping the jacket around me. I melted into his warmth, hugging my arms around his waist tightly. He smelled clean, freshly washed with a hint of something sweet I had come to associate with Edward. I couldn't imagine what I smelled like. Showers were rare in Auschwitz and never looked forward to. We never knew whether it was water or poisonous gases that would come out to greet us. I tried to pull back slightly so I wouldn't soil his clothes, but he just held me tighter.

"Shhhh. You smell fine," he assured me as if he read my thoughts.

"Liar," I chuckled.

"I'm around it so much I don't really smell it anymore," he added, trying to make me feel better.

I looked up to his face and smiled, letting him know I appreciated his attempt. He lifted his hand, running his fingertips lightly through my hair.

"It's growing out," he whispered. "I think it may be longer than mine."

He allowed his hand to drift slowly down until he was cupping my cheek, the pad of his thumb swiping tenderly under my eye. I gazed up at him, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the moonlight. He was achingly beautiful.

He stared past my shoulder out into the night, deep worry lines etched in his features.

"What's wrong?" I asked, holding his hand against my cheek.

He sighed. "Rumors are flying around."

I furrowed my brow, "What rumors?"

"The Russian army is close."

"To Auschwitz?" I questioned.

He nodded. "We have been ordered to destroy all evidence of the gas chambers."

"That is good, isn't it?"

He shook his head and swallowed thickly. "Officer Grueller was boasting today about his work detail digging massive pits."

"Massive pits?"

Edward nodded. "He said tomorrow, when they were finished, they would line the prisoners along the edge and open fire. They'll fall right in. They're digging their own graves, Isabella."

"What?" I gasped, a hand flying to my chest. Tears sprang to my eyes at the thought of all those people piled one on top of the other without a proper burial.

For the first time in the months I had spent here, had spent with Edward, I saw tears spill from his eyes and run down his cheeks.

"E-Edward," I whispered burying my face in his neck.

"I don't know how to protect anyone from this. I don't know how to protect you."

"But, I'm not in Officer Grueller's work detail, Edward. I'm in yours." I didn't understand.

"Isabella," he said gripping my upper arms tightly and staring into my eyes, "this isn't a one time occurrence. They will keep assigning work details to fill the graves."

"Oh God," I cupped my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to upset you. Isabella, I need you to listen. Do not draw any kind of attention to yourself. This is the last time I will be able to pull you away in private. It is too risky. I'm afraid we might be caught."

"Does someone suspect?" I choked out, truly terrified.

"I don't know. I don't think so. Please, try not to fret." He tried to maintain his composure, but his eyes were all wrong.

"You're lying. What is it, Edward? Please tell me," I pleaded with him.

"One of the other Rapportfuhrers called me a Jew liebhaber, _Jew lover_, in passing conversation today. He could have been only jesting, but everyone is on high alert. God, Isabella, if we were caught…" he trailed off, the blood draining from his face, causing his skin to appear ashy white in the moonlight.

I stroked his face trying to provide what comfort I could offer. "Bella," the nickname fell from his lips. No one had ever called me that, but in this moment it felt right. It was his, something that bound only us together. "I can't lose you. I'll die if I lose you."

His eyes were crazed as he held me to him, his grip almost painful on my arms. Desperate to calm him, my fingers found their way into his hair. I pulled his face towards mine and gently pressed my lips to his. His breath caught, stalling him momentarily before he responded.

His hold loosened as his hands slid around my waist pulling my body flush against his. We moved tentatively against each other at first. His lips were soft and warm against mine. He ended the kiss and closed his eyes, resting his forehead against mine.

"I love you, my Bella," he whispered his warm breath fanning across my face.

"I love you, too."

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, before a crooked smile lit up his entire face. If I'd thought Edward Cullen was beautiful before, it was nothing compared to when he smiled. It was just one more thing the world had been deprived of because of this war.

He pressed his lips to mine once again before his tongue traced along my bottom lip, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I opened my mouth to him and our tongues slid together wrapping and curling around each other.

All too soon he ended the kiss with a couple of soft pecks. "Bella, I need you to listen to me. Do you know the main train station in Kraków?"

"Yes."

"If something happens and we are separated, that is where I want you to meet me. I will come, no matter what. I promise I will find you. Promise me you will go there and you will wait for me."

"Edward, you're scaring me."

"I know. And I don't mean to. But, just promise me, Bella." His eyes were crazed again as he finished his plea. I would have promised him anything to make it go away.

"I promise, Edward. I'll wait for you. I swear."

"Good," he swallowed, nodding his head. "Good."

"I love you," he said once more, pressing his lips against mine.

He delivered me to the barracks undetected, but as I slipped into my bunk an uneasiness began to settle in my chest. Edward had tried to pass off the Rapportfuhrer's comment as jesting, but something felt off. As the night wore on, my trepidation grew and by morning I was a trembling mess.

I found myself longing for roll call, just so I could see him - to know that he was alright and our secret remained safe. Truly the anxiety had driven me mad, to actually desire standing for hours in formation, risking death.

I fell into the familiar rows and columns as my eyes wildly searched for the shock of bronze hair tucked neatly beneath his Schirmmütze. The guards spread out, slithering amongst the rows like vipers poising to strike - the Schutzlagerfuhrer overseeing roll call from his usual station. Then, without warning he stepped down from his podium and entered the array of inmates. The action was shocking, punctuated by a collective gasp throughout the ranks. In all my time at Auschwitz, the Schutzlagerfuhrer never left his post during roll call, only bellowing orders at the other soldiers. The air seemed to grow thin and I battled to take in enough oxygen. My breaths came in shallow gasps. Something was definitely wrong and Edward was nowhere to be seen.

The Schutzlagerfuhrer's path was unmistakable. He wasted no time weaving amongst the prisoners, but blazed a direct path stopping directly in front of me.

"Come," he ordered.

The wooden shoes felt more akin to lead boots as I trudged behind, the certainty of my situation settling in the pit of my stomach. To my horror we stopped at the place that had once been my sanctuary - the very spot Edward always took me.

He whirled, suddenly, clutching my throat with his gloved hand, pushing me back viciously into the boards of the latrine. He leaned in, his face inches from mine.

"Is this where he brought you?" he snarled. I closed my eyes, turning away from him. "Did you really think you would succeed? That the two of you would not be discovered?" His fingers constricted painfully digging into my skin, cutting off my air supply.

He brought his lips close to my ear. "Did he have it off with you, Isabella?" He paused pulling back, turning my face roughly, forcing me to look him in the eye. "No," he stated simply. "I doubt that." He took another step back without relinquishing his hold, his eyes wandering over my body. "As if _you_ would have something to offer. Not here," he said squeezing my breast roughly with his free hand. His fingers brushed down the outside of my tunic as he lowered his hand, cupping between my legs. "And certainly not here."

"Ahhh, but he was still foolish and for that you will both pay dearly. You see, my first inclination was to put a bullet in your head, but then his father intervened. He has ordered very... special plans for you. Fortunately for Edward, he got the easy way out..."

"Where's Edward? What have you done?"

"Can't you tell?" he asked gesturing towards the fresh ash falling from the sky. He caught a flake on his finger and brought it close to my face.

"You're lying. The chambers have been shut down."

"Hmmm. We made an exception. I mean, how else would you explain this?" he asked, lifting the ash closer to my face. He released me and I crumbled to the ground coughing and spluttering between sobs.

I did not return to my bunk. For the next two months, I survived in solitary confinement - a small closet located in the basement of the infirmary. There was no human contact, save a hand that would appear through the slot in the door, holding a liter jar of liquid. The hand was followed by the barrel of a gun that would not retreat until every last drop of the oily solution had been consumed.

The substance caused my stomach to coil and churn, turning over on itself. For days on end I would vomit and suffer from diarrhea, coating the bottom of my cell. I lived in my filth, shaking from cold sweats and muscle spasms. Black spots would cloud my vision until finally I'd slip into unconsciousness.

It was only then - in the moments when reality teetered on edge before inescapably plummeting into the dark chasm - that I was at peace. Because there, in that dream world, I was once again united with Edward. The dream was always the same - a figure in the distance emerging from the gray mist. Two dark lines running parallel extending from beneath my feet, spanning the gap between us - a path leading to my savior. We would walk, one towards the other, until he swept me in his arms, cradling me against his chest. And there, he would whisper promises - promises that he never dared to utter at Auschwitz.

"You're safe now. No one will ever hurt you again."

I knew after the first dream that the Schutzlagerfuhrer's words were lies. Edward was still alive. I knew it in my heart, but could only pray his fate was better than mine.

Days passed as I shifted between reality and dream until the slot in the door would open once again - a hand thrusting a small cup of water into my cell. When it first began, I would devour it, drinking greedily. But the shock to my system would only bring about more vomiting.

The cycle continued, the effects of dehydration only worsening with each ingestion of what I later found out to be caster oil. The water only barely kept me alive, but I remained mad with thirst. My skin became dry and flaky before shriveling up altogether. The cold sweats gave way to unbelievable hot flashes, though there was never any perspiration. The bouts of unconsciousness were more frequent and lasted for longer periods of time. I knew death was close as I succumbed to the darkness once more.

The dream began as it usually did and I longed to be in his arms. He drew closer and my heart soared. I closed my eyes in anticipation of his embrace...but it never came. My lids fluttered open to find Edward standing on the tracks, still a few meters away. I furrowed my brow in confusion. "Edward?"

"You have to fight, Bella!" he spoke firmly.

"I'm so tired, Edward. I can't do it anymore."

"You have to fight!" he reiterated.

"Please just hold me. I need you to hold me," I pleaded with him, but he was unmoving.

"Bella, I'll never be able to hold you again if you give up. You promised you'd wait for me at the station. Are you going to break your promise?" His face twisted in pain at the thought, causing my heart to clench. "Please don't give up," he whispered just loud enough for me to hear. "You promised."

I could not fathom what he expected of me. I had nothing left to give. Did he not understand how tired I was? Did he not understand I just wanted it all to end?

The creak of the hinged slot pulled me from my dream state. I fought to open my leaden eyelids, blinking through the black spots. A hand holding a cup of water emerged and I crawled on hands and knees through the filth to retrieve it. I crouched in the corner sipping my treasure slowly as I'd learned to do. The cups came repeatedly for a few days, as they always did, until my skin regained a little of its elasticity and the black spots cleared from my vision.

After the fourth cup appeared, I felt a stabbing pain in my abdomen. I had mistakenly thought with severe dehydration would come lack of urination, but instead urinating became utterly excruciating. I squatted, hiking up what was left of my tunic. But just before the small trickle began, a thought flitted on the periphery of my conscious mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to capture it. It felt important - life or death important.

And suddenly it was there - revolting yet wholly brilliant. I reached down grasping the cup that had held my fourth serving of water and placed it between my legs catching what dribble of liquid I could. It filled barely a quarter of the cup. I lifted it to my lips before my brain could register and rebel against what I was about to do - taking it down in a single gulp. I gagged, saliva flooding my mouth, but was able to keep myself from throwing up.

And so, I learned to survive the S.S. doctors' dehydration experiments. My skin was no longer shriveled, though it remained dry and flaky. Bouts of unconsciousness came fewer and farther between until they eventually disappeared altogether.

My life, such as it was, continued in this manner until one day the door to my cell simply opened, flooding the small space with light. I shielded my face with my hand, the brightness painful to my eyes. I could barely distinguish the outline of a German officer standing in the doorway.

"Kannst du gehen?" _Can you walk?_

I hesitated momentarily, weighing my options. I didn't know if I would be able to walk, but I knew that answer would bring certain death. Death...I used to fear it. I knew now that death was easy. It would be so _easy_. A shake of my head. A pull of the trigger. Then...nothing.

But the thought was followed quickly by Edward's plea echoing in my mind. "_You promised."_

I blinked, my vision clearing, and looked at the officer squarely, nodding in the affirmative. I followed the officer out into the yard for the first time in eight weeks. Guards were shouting orders herding prisoners into lines. The gates at the front entrance were wide open as a stream of inmates marched west, parallel to the tracks, armed guards every few feet. I fell in line, concentrating on simply placing one foot in front of the other repeatedly. My legs ached from lack of use causing discomfort with each step.

Sixty thousand prisoners marched the fifty-five kilometers to train stations in Gleiwitz and Loslau between January 18th and 27th. Snow covered the ground and temperatures dipped well below freezing. 15,000 people died on the death marches from Auschwitz - some from hypothermia - others from a German bullet.

I honestly do not know how I survived the ten hour march other than sheer will power. Edward informed me just before our separation that the Russian army was close and I could sense the end was near. The last dream of Edward rushed back in full force. I had to fight if I was ever going to see him again. So I continued mechanically placing one foot in front of the other. I fought through dehydration, starvation, and frostbite that would claim three toes on my left foot. But, I trudged on with one word in my mind repeating over and over again. One name. _Edward. Edward. Edward._

At the station in Gleiwitz, we were loaded into another cattle car. It was unfathomably worse than the first train that delivered my family to Auschwitz. The size of the cargo - mere skeletons - allowed the Gestapo to pack even more prisoners into the cars than ever before. Many passengers had lost every last shred of humanity, had become no better than wild animals existing only to survive. It was nothing for one inmate to murder another over a scrap of bread, a trickle of water, or in this case - a small sliver of oxygen.

I stood huddling into a corner, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I had no idea where they were taking us. Another camp possibly? But where? I could only hope the tracks were bringing me closer to the station in Kraków, closer to Edward.

The conditions inside the car became a war of contrasts. The bitter cold seeped in through the cracks causing me to shiver uncontrollably, every muscle in my body contracting violently - painfully. Yet, those cracks offered what everyone was so desperate to find, what anyone on the train would kill for...air. Every fiber of my being seized severely as the icy fingers of winter reached through the smallest crevices, biting my skin torturingly. Yet, my feet were on fire, set aflame by the quicklime coating the floor - my shoes lost many kilometers ago on our march from the camp.

The crowd of bodies pressed in from all sides, impulsively pushing towards a small hole in the boards next to my shoulder. I withdrew without putting up a fight, shrinking away from the madness. Challenging their advances was certain death. I sank further into the masses, the air becoming thinner - my chest tighter, the pressure mounting with each vain breath. My lungs burned, screaming for oxygen. Black spots, not unlike those I suffered during the experiments, dotted my vision when suddenly the train slowed, the brakes squealing under the strain.

I didn't know how much longer I would last when the doors mercifully slid open. I drew in deep breaths, sucking in lungfuls of precious air repeatedly until I was dizzy with it. Several armed officers appeared brandishing firearms. They aimed their guns into the car and my heart stalled momentarily before slamming against my ribs.

"Pow!" a guard yelled, grinning maniacally before lowering his gun.

"Geh! Du bist frei. Du bist frei." _Go! You're free._

No one moved, everyone momentarily stunned. Free? The word sounded foreign, its meaning long forgotten. "Du bist frei! Du bist frei!" the guard shouted louder, motioning with his gun for us to exit the train. Slowly, as if emerging from a dense fog, the words became clearer. One by one at first, then faster the inmates gained comprehension and stumbled from the train.

In a daze we staggered out into the adjacent field with no particular destination other than simply away from here. Minutes passed as thousands spread across the countryside. I veered to the left of the masses drifting further and further away. If I followed the tracks they would eventually bring me to a station and from there I could find my way to Kraków - to Edward.

Perhaps I was crazy to venture off on my own. There would be safety in numbers, but in the end it was the one decision that saved me. From a distance I heard a familiar command that made the blood run as ice in my veins.

"Schießt!" the Schutzlagerfuhrer's words echoed followed by the staccato of automatic gunfire.

I wheeled, instinctively ducking and watched in horror as the German army mowed down thousands - only a handful escaping into the nearby trees. I turned and hobble-ran, cursing my useless foot until I thought I would collapse from exhaustion. I stopped, my heart nearly bursting within me.

I bent over resting my hands on my knees. And for the first time, I noticed the silence. It roared head-long, crashing over me like a tidal wave. I didn't understand the sudden stillness - could not comprehend a world without anguished wails and agonized cries. It confused me and I suddenly felt as if I was in one of my dreams. The lines of fantasy and reality blurred beyond recognition.

_Was I truly alive or had I succumbed to the spray of bullets? Was I lying somewhere in a field outside a cattle car, the taste of freedom still on my tongue? Or even worse...the infirmary closet?_

I stood, still in a daze. There was no choice, but to continue on - whether or not this was real. I stood and stared at my path, the tracks continuing on until they faded in the distance. A lone figure dotted the misty gray horizon, drawing my attention - my eyes squinting, straining to see. I continued on, relentlessly placing one foot in front of the other. The _shuffle-thump, shuffle-thump_ pulsed out a rhythm punctuating the quiet as I drug my deformed foot over the cross ties, trudging onward. The rails stretched several hundred yards between us and I wondered if he even noticed me, or if his eyes simply peered right through me - a ghost of who I'd been two months ago.

The figure continued his approach and panic set in as the man was close enough now I could just make out the band of red adorning his left arm. But, before the hysteria could completely consume me, the scene became altogether familiar. I'd been here before - the gray mist - the parallel lines running beneath my feet, the path to my savior...my dream...my Edward.

I moved forward with purpose now, ignoring the protestation of my feet and legs. I drew closer, my heart fluttering the moment I caught a glimpse of his bronze hair. I desperately wanted to reach him. _Why was he moving so slowly? Did he not see me? Was this not real? _

I came to a standstill suddenly unsure of this moment. He progressed tentatively as if afraid he might frighten me off, stopping just in front of me. His green eyes bore into my soul, searching fiercely. Carefully he took my wrist in his hand, his touch causing tears to spring to my eyes. He glanced down rubbing his thumb over the standard identification tattoo.

His eyes snapped to mine, welling with tears.

"Bella?" he questioned, unsure.

"Edward!" I cried collapsing against him. He dipped, placing his arm behind my knees and scooped me off my feet, cradling me to his chest. "Tell me you're real...that you're really here," I begged, terrified I was dreaming.

"I'm here, my Bella. I'm right here," he promised, pressing his cheek against the top of my head. "You're safe now. No one will ever hurt you again." I closed my eyes, burying my face in his neck as he turned and carried me back the way he'd come.

No one knows the exact number of victims that met their end at Auschwitz, but most place the number around 3 million - almost half of them Hungarian Jews, gassed within a ten week period in 1944, like my family had been. That I survived was a miracle. Most who entered the gates left only one way...through the chimneys. And the fact that I endured the experiments spearheaded by the monster, Dr Josef Mengele - the Angel of Death as he was called - was an unprecedented feat. But, most did not have what I had found there...

Hope.

It had come in the form of a bronzed haired boy with a handsome face and heart of gold, my Edward. He had given me a purpose, a reason to continue on through the hell that was the death camp, a reason to fight, to continue on living for the rest of my days. It was never easy and we never forgot the horrors of those months, but in each other we found the strength needed to heal and to live.

And, live, we did.


End file.
